Quidditch Competition Entries
by AngelsofHades
Summary: These will be all of my entries for the competition, each chapter being it's own oneshot, but I might continue some if you tell me that you like them particularly.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round  one in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write about my Death Eater being at home. Final word count:  1 720 words.

Additional prompts:

1) (Quote) "When you pay attention to boredom it gets unbelievably interesting." –Jon Kabat-Zinn

2) (Dialogue) "I really do like the pants"

3) (Word) clock

This is a bit of an AU, meaning that the ending of my story is different to how it happened in canon. Please keep this in mind while reading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.

Warning: Mentions of previous self-harm, torture, and physical and mental abuse.

Boredom was, is, and always will be, a pain in the ass.

Regulus Arcturus Black was unbelievably bored. He had been sitting in the same position on his bed for at least two hours, just watching the minutes pass by on the strange Muggle contraption Sirius had introduced as a clock for his twelfth birthday; even though it looked nothing like any clock he'd ever seen before. He'd learnt how to work it a few weeks ago, when he began to find himself bored more and more often. Regulus thought of a passage he had read once when he was younger, that had said: 'When you pay attention to boredom it gets unbelievably interesting.' Whoever had written that was nothing more than a moronic liar. There was nothing remotely interesting about sitting still, not even being able to go downstairs to the library without being hounded by his mother for one thing or another.

He couldn't go talk to Sirius either. He couldn't even face him right now. It wasn't that he was mad, or even surprised, about what had happened, but he knew that Sirius would never understand his reasons, and if he ever found out– well, there'd be hell to pay. And then he'd never see his big brother again. Regulus knew that if Sirius discovered his secret, he'd leave the family home forever and go and live with that stupidly handsome friend of his that always winked at Regulus just to fluster him. The only reason that Sirius was still in this bloody horrible house was to be with Regulus, who didn't have the luxury of contemplating an escape; as soon as Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus' chances at a normal life had been ruined. His mother pushed and pushed and pushed until Regulus was the perfect son– unable to even find the courage to deny his mother anything, meaning that he couldn't leave the house as she had forbid him from it, the penalty being their father's life.

That was another thing that Regulus had to deal with that Sirius probably didn't know about. Well, most of it anyway. Their mother, who wasn't the kindest person to begin with, was terrifying when she was denied anything. That; Sirius already knew. What he didn't know was that mother had found out Regulus' greatest weakness– he cared too damn much about his loved ones. She exploited this fact by threatening to hurt or kill those he loved every time a situation came up where it seemed as if he might refuse to follow one of her commands. At first she had threatened to hurt him, but after the first few beatings, it wasn't so effective. That is, until she turned on Sirius.

She had received a courting request for him from an older Slytherin, which would activate when he was of age. If he went through with it, the other family would rise in the Pureblood ranks, where the Black name had shivers of fear and envy running down the backs of all people, "friend" or foe. The Blacks would benefit in other ways: a secure bloodline, gaining more money through the dowry, and even more political power than they already had. But Regulus hadn't wanted to marry her. She was ugly and downright cruel when she wanted to be, and she happened to be a _she._ He had refused the marriage straight up, and the beating he got from his mother was enough to keep him in bed for two days, but he hadn't given up, and it seemed as if Walburga had down. That should've set off the red lights in Regulus' head, but at the time he was still woefully naive.

That is, until Sirius stumbled into his room the next day, bleeding heavily from his back. He had no idea why Walburga had attacked him, so he went to Regulus to have him heal it up. Regulus was nearly sick when he realised what he was looking at. On Sirius' back were the words, _how about now, Reggie?_

She had used a curse that had been taught to him a few months prior, so he knew the counter-curse, which also made sure no scars were left behind. It was a common curse used in psychological torture. Either the person with the scars was marked terribly and then all evidence was removed so they believed they were going crazy, or the loved ones of the people with the scars had to live with the terrible things marked on the skin while the victims remained clueless. It was obvious what she'd used it for. She had done that just to torture him, and him alone, even though it was Sirius who got hurt in the end. She _had_ ended up dropping the marriage offer though, finding the girl unsuitable when it was discovered she wasn't a virgin.

After that incident she had continued to pressure him with threats and continuous abuse against Sirius and their father until he had finally given in and didn't even try to resist her anymore. That was how Regulus had ended up in his current predicament.

Regulus sighed despondently as he stared down at his left forearm. The skin was dark and marred by one of the ugliest and most obvious symbols he'd ever laid eyes on. He seriously couldn't understand why the-bastard-who-shall-remain-nameless would choose such a noticeable mark to identify his followers with. So far, he hadn't found a way to cover it up, not with a glamour or even Muggle makeup. He was starting to feel desperate enough to just remove the skin from his arm at this point, but he wouldn't, if only for the fact that this hideous brand was the only thing assuring Sirius' safety at this point.

Regulus, above all other things, wished that he hadn't gotten so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed someone approaching his door. He was only alerted to someone else's presence when the door slammed open and his brother's voice rang out, barely enough time to yank his sleeve back down to his wrist, not enough time for Sirius to not to notice the desperate movement.

"Hey, Reg, how are these pants? It's Remus' birthday and- huh? What are you doing? You- you haven't been cutting again, have you? _Regulus Black you will show me your wrists this instant."_ Regulus flinched away from Sirius' inquiring hands, but his older brother's- ironically enough- feline reflexes allowed him to lunge forward and grab his hands in an iron grip, said pants flying through the air and landing in a heap at the floor at the end of the bed. No matter how much Regulus struggled and pleaded with his brother, trying to reassure him that he hadn't been hurting himself, Sirius eventually managed to pull up his sleeve again- before launching himself to the other side of the room; not even the sounds of his younger brother crying out in dismay, or the sight of his whole, suddenly _tiny_ body shaking violently with arms outstretched enough to bring him back to Regulus' side. Sirius' face became blotchy when red and white battled to be the dominant colour covering it and his knuckles turned white with the tight grip he had on his long hair. Breathing ragged and eyes starting to blur, Sirius focused completely on the bloody _Dark Mark_ that had somehow found place on his baby brother's painfully skinny arm.

Regulus blubbered as he tried to explain to Sirius what had happened and how it had come about, but suddenly his mark started to _burn,_ as if someone were pressing red hot coals into the flesh under his skin and he was unable to do anything but scream as the pain spread throughout his whole body the more he tried to talk. It seemed like that was enough to snap Sirius out of his betray-filled horror enough to run back over to Regulus, hands hovering over the writhing body, unsure as to what he should do in this situation to help his precious little brother. He ended up just sitting beside him on the bed, arms gently encircling the smaller body, cradling him to his chest while he tried to sooth him by making soft noises and shushing him- though he felt as if Padfoot had influenced him do that more than his own brain. Sirius ran his fingers gently through his brother's hair as his bawling subsided and he was reduced to a sniffling mess, supporting his sore arm delicately.

Through his brilliant powers of observation, Sirius was able to deduce that somehow, speaking about the mark caused pain, as that was the only thing that Sirius could imagine Regulus would have been trying to say. His stomach churned as he thought of the way that Regulus had been weeping _before_ the apparent pain started, and his arms tightened subconsciously when he was reminded by the stiffening of his brother's body that it was _him_ who had caused it.

His reaction had been completely ridiculous, now that he thought about it. Why would _Regulus,_ his baby brother, who got stepped on at school for covering little animals with his hands, who would cuddle up with their psychotic owl every time it hurt itself even though he knew he would get scratched in the end, who volunteered in the children's section of St Mungo's during the holidays and sang songs to the sick kids, who patched up Sirius _every single bloody time_ he'd done something stupid, _hell_ who _learned_ how to heal _just for Sirius,_ join the Dark willingly? He felt like a giant fool, and his little brother had suffered for his stupidity. He sighed and pulled Regulus closer to his chest while he reached for his wand- ignoring the small whimper of fear that Regulus tried to muffle by burying his head in Sirius' shoulder, _but how could you ignore something like that-_ and transfiguring a stray piece of cloth into a handkerchief and using it to dab at Regulus' face before handing it to the now huffing boy. Sirius was unable to stop his own tears from falling as he laughed and hugged his brother even tighter when a small and watery voice drifted up to his ears.

"I really do like the pants, Siri. I'm sure Remus will love how you look in them."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round  two in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write about someone doing their homework for History of Magic. Final word count:  1, 114 words.

Additional prompts:

(Word) Hangover

(Word) Light

(Quote) "The starting point of all achievement is desire" – Napoleon Hill

 **Warning:** Sexual references, threesome, twincest, underage drinking, history homework.

Double Trouble, Boil and Bubble

If there was two things that Oliver Wood had learnt through all his years in Hogwarts, it was that there was no subject he hated more than History of Magic and that there was no one alive who could stop the Weasley twins from getting what they wanted, including himself, even though he was probably the one person in the whole world that knew them both as well as they knew each other.

He was currently sitting in the empty common room belonging to the Gryffindor house, writing some boring report about the thirteenth Goblin War and trying not to fret over the fact that it was nearing midnight and the twins hadn't returned from their latest adventure yet. They never usually took this long to get back, especially on a Wednesday night when they had Potions first thing tomorrow morning. He hated the fact that he was such a nag to the two of them, but he just couldn't help but worry about Fred and George, or Gred and Forge, as they preferred, when they had come back in bruises often enough to make him keep a first-aid potions kit in his room at all times, usually with detentions in tow.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts from his mind, Oliver turned back to the homework and wrote out another few sentences from what he had remembered in the lesson, before realising that he had at least another page to write and he was running out of material. Cracking open his textbook, Oliver settled down for another thirty minutes, the only sound penetrating the silence being the scratch of his quill on the parchment and the occasional turning of pages so he could put references to real events in the report.

Oliver was actually so caught up in writing his homework and checking with his textbook that he nearly missed the arrival of the twins through the entryway portrait. It said something about his level of concentration when you took into consideration that the twins weren't even trying to be subtle. They were stomping and swaying forwards, giggling like little girls and tripping over their own feet. They squealed when they caught sight of him and trotted over, Fred immediately draping himself over Oliver's lap while George stood behind him and wrapped his arms over the broad shoulders in front of him, while Oliver struggled not to slump forward as he carried George's weight.

Oliver's nose was immediately assaulted by the pungent stench of Firewhisky. _That_ explained why the twins were out so late –somehow they'd gotten their paws on some contraband alcohol and decided that the best thing to do was drink it. Oliver sighed. It was hard enough getting them to bed _sober,_ let alone intoxicated. They both happened to become very… physical… whenever they managed to sneak enough alcohol into their systems. And by the looks of them, they had _definitely_ drunk enough to lose control of their terrible pick-up line inhibitor. Oliver wanted to slap both hands to his face in defeat (if they weren't trapped under Fred's body) when the first line came, only slightly muffled by the fact that George's mouth was currently pressed against his neck.

"Well, _hello,_ Mr Wood… my associate and I heard that you might have a _broom,_ in need of some _polishing_." The purred line made him groan in despair. If they were already this bad…

"I'll ride your _broomstick_ ,"

"Show me _your_ _wand_ and _I'll_ show you _mine_ ,"

"Is that a _Snitch_ in your eyes or are you just _shining_?"

"Is that a _Bludger_ in your _pocket_ or are you just happy to see us?"

When they both collapsed into giggles after too many more of those terrible imitations of flirting Oliver could've cried in relief. The next part was easier to deal with than the pick-up lines. He'd gotten used to the treatment now, but their intoxicated seducing was just too much for him. He shivered slightly when George's mouth decided his neck was tasty looking enough to lick, but Fred's head came up for a kiss before he could stop either of them. Not that he had figured out how to do that in the first place.

Oliver was just extremely grateful that they lived in a world where silencing charms were possible when the twins finally decided to drag him up to bed and have their 'wicked' way with him.

…

As he woke the next morning, Oliver thought of the quote by a Muggle named Napoleon Hill that he had etched on the inside of his trunk a year ago: "The starting point of all achievement is desire." Oliver wanted to achieve something now. At this present moment, lying in bed in the middle of a Weasley sandwich, Oliver desired to achieve. He wanted to get out of bed. That's all. There's a reason that Oliver wasn't considered for Slytherin by the hat –he never really was very ambitious.

He knew he would probably regret it later when the twins decided to get revenge on him, but after casting another silencing spell as well as a sticking charm on the vibrant red curtains hanging off the bed frame, concealing them from the rest of the room, Oliver lit his wand up with the brightest _Lumos Maxima_ that he could while screaming out a very, very loud wake up call.

Understandably, the two hung-over teens in bed with him were not amused, which Oliver found rather ironic, considering that he had two of the best pranksters to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts lying beside him. They groaned and clutched their heads with one hand while they swatted at the light with the other, both missing completely while Oliver busied himself with laughing himself silly. He eventually relented and cast a breathless _Nox,_ before kissing the top of their fiery heads and slipping out of the bed, calling a House-Elf for some water to leave on the bedside table and complementing the little worker until he was also gifted with some hangover potions that he would 'accidently' forget about until the twins decided to come downstairs for breakfast.

…

Oliver smiled as he made his way down to the hall after having a much needed shower and dressing himself, twirling the twin's wands that he had decided to confiscate as punishment for getting drunk on a school-night, completely forgetting about the unfinished History report still waiting on the floor of the common room where it had been dropped last night, where he wouldn't find it until the next week, funnily enough on the day where his neon yellow hair decided to fade back to his regular brown.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round  three in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story using our team's name as a prompt and to stay between 2001 and 2250 words. Final word count: 2078 words.

Additional prompts:

(Genre) Parody

(Quote) "All we have to decide is what to do with the time you've given us" – JRR Tolkien

(Emotion) Surprise

 **Flying Blind**

Remus Lupin could confirm that in all his years alive, he had never come across a situation like this. He'd been planning to teach the third years about Boggarts for a fun but still educational lesson when Severus had disrupted them –in more ways than one. At first, it had been when they came into the room and he decided to torment one of the students, the round-faced son of Alice and Frank (who completely contradicted any and all memories he had of the unshakeable couple). But after he left Remus had assumed that was the last they would see of him, at least until the staff meeting later tonight.

He wasn't prepared to learn that his old classmate had driven the same diffident boy into such terror that his likeness was the first Boggart to appear, but before he could even become angry at all, the unthinkable happened. To this day, Remus still had no idea how or why it had happened, but one moment Severus Snape in all his dour clothes and expressions was standing before him, and in the next, the class was roaring with laughter as the Boggart shied away from them, its physical form struggling to keep hold against such a strong onslaught of its greatest weakness. The cause for the laughter was partly the fact that, somehow, Neville had managed to imagine the horrible Potions teacher into a terribly dressed drag queen (which was funny enough on its own), but also the extremely obvious presence of a rather large and very enthusiastic tattoo supporting the Ballycastle Bats of all things. The tattoo was placed just above the man's right knee, the dark coloured mammal contrasting with the pasty white skin and Remus seemed to be stuck in a state of horrified awe. He couldn't seem to make himself look away for the moment, but then he realised where he was and who was with him, hastily urging the next student forward to face the creature. He breathed a sigh of relief when the next student's fear was more reasonable and easier to deal with, and still funny enough for the children to keep the Amortal at bay.

…

Of course, with Hogwarts being Hogwarts, everyone knew about the incident by dinner, except Hagrid and the three students in the Hospital wing. But they found out soon enough, especially when it apparently became a school-wide mission to find out if One Nasty Dungeon Bat actually had a Bat Tat, as dubbed by the two most handsome Gryffindors, if they did say so themselves. Fred and George really had outdone themselves this time. Hogwarts herself had never witnessed a time since the Founder's days where every single student was striving towards a single goal -even the Slytherin students were in on it, their undeniable curiosity shining through in the way their eyes would very subtly dart to the Potions Master every three seconds, as if they believed they would be able to somehow see through his cloak if they looked hard enough.

"Merlin's Beard!" Only a few of the younger students flinched at the simultaneous loud exclamations that were ripped from the mouths of the two identical gingers. They turned to each other, eyes already shining with unaltered excitement and mischievousness before the boys jumped up and left the hall, leaving their unfinished dinners behind. Such is the price of being geniuses, Gred and Forge solemnly agreed. Harry would probably sneak them up something later anyway. The younger boy always seemed to have some extra food up his sleeves (literally), either to eat himself or to feed anyone who hadn't eaten enough at dinner or was sick. He was a little mother-hen, really. It made the twins both proud and sad at the same time. They hadn't spoken to him about the bars on his windows since they had come to rescue him, but they were definitely smart enough to link them with his smuggling habit. He would come to them if he wanted to, though, and they had other things to think about now as well. Namely, inventing a spell that would allow them to either temporarily see through clothes or one that could detect any ink on the body. They hadn't much time to work until they would be stopped anyway, so a decision between the two ideas would have to be made after they did some research. They sighed and clasped hands briefly, attempting to draw strength from the other until they had gathered the courage to walk through the doors in front of them. Never let it be said that the library wasn't an intimidating place, especially with Madam Pince always on their backs, as if expecting them to blow up one of the places they needed the most.

…

Neville hadn't meant for this to happen. There was not one person in the school, living or not, who was more surprised than him by the events that had led up to this exact moment, sitting rigidly in his seat as he tried not to curl up into a ball under the table under the weight of Professor Snape's glare on his back. He reached for his water, hands shaking slightly as he attempted to stall the panic attack he could feel coming on. It would not do for him to break down in the middle of the Great Hall of all places. Logically, he knew that Professor Snape couldn't really hurt him –it was against some law or other, wasn't it?

He couldn't help what he felt, however. Neville honestly hadn't meant to embarrass the Professor like that or anything, it's just that he figured it probably would have been better for the nasty Potions Professor (that everyone knew hated him) to walk out of the cupboard rather than his own Grandmother. She'd never been cruel to him or anything like that… he was just really, really scared of disappointing her. He wouldn't know what he'd do if she suddenly realised that he wasn't worth the trouble and sent him off somewhere -most likely to his Uncle's, and Neville knew he wouldn't make it back to the school if he was banished there. She was over-protective and doubted his intelligence, skills, and power, sure, but she had raised him -she was the one person in his life who had been there from the start.

Professor Snape sort of embodied his fear, Neville supposed. He was always going on about how useless and stupid he was, that he'd never amount to anything at all, how no matter how good he was at Herbology, no one would ever hire someone who couldn't perform a simple spell or brew even the easiest of potions. It hurt Neville whenever the Professor would say things like that to him. He really was trying his best, after all. He didn't know why his spells never made it out of his wand, even when he could feel the magic moving through his body, sliding from his core to his fingertips, reaching ahead, eager to perform –before stopping abruptly, hitting a solid wall that he was never able to get more than a few spells through.

Neville also didn't know why, when confronted with the feared Professor's Boggart, his imagination had changed in a split second from the image he had of his Grandmother's everyday clothes to the costume he'd once caught his uncle parading about in to prepare for some Muggle event called a Mardi Gras. In a very, very small part of his mind, that would grow larger and larger over the years after this event, Neville was extremely happy about the way things had turned out. It had been a hilarious, although also a bit horrifying, sight to see, and everyone in the school (except the man in question) was being the kindest to Neville that they'd ever been. It was nice to feel wanted.

…

Severus Snape was not a happy bat. At first, he had only known about the fact that he had appeared as Longbottom's Boggart that fateful day, but after a while he began to recognise the looks of amusement and curiosity that were coming from apparently everyone but Hagrid, apparently. It had only taken a little digging over the past days and he'd found out about the real reason whispers would explode every time he walked into a room. It infuriated him so much that he'd very nearly confronted the boy himself before he registered the signs of a panic attack that the third-year Gryffindor was displaying. Severus was ashamed to admit that he'd never noticed the familiar symptoms before this. It had taken a Boggart for him (a man who was quite possibly the best triple agent alive) to notice the immense fear that he caused in the Longbottom heir.

He knew he was intimidating, but he'd no idea about the massive effect his mere presence had on the child. He sat silently, completely unaware that his contemplating gaze was only making the Lion Cub more and more nervous until he became aware of faint laughter coming from Minerva's house as some of the other students laughed at the mess the third-year made when the water he'd been attempting to drink to cool his nerves suddenly spilt all over the table in front of him. Severus was thrown into his own memories as he watched the boy's ears burn red as his head fell, humiliated by his own housemates. Merlin, how Severus hated those Gryffindors.

He watched as Longbottom stood from his seat and rushed towards the doors of the Great Hall, bumping into those red-headed menaces as he left. They were walking in slowly, quietly and calmly. Immediately every member of the staff was on full alert. The two were definitely up to something, and Severus didn't want to be the one who found out what. He knew that they'd probably attempt to target him in some sort of prank, after all, he knew they, more than any other students in the school, would be extremely determined to find out if the rumours were true. Most of the time he didn't really mind their pranks; he'd been wary at first, worried about a second generation of Marauders, but all of their pranks seemed to be completely harmless, and with the intention to make everyone laugh, even the "victims." That didn't mean he wanted them to prank him, though, so he was keeping his guard up until this whole thing blew over. Why they were even so interested in whether or not he had a tattoo was beyond him, anyway.

…

Albus Dumbledore was a happy man. Not only had this whole situation with the Ballycastle tattoo brought all the students closer together, the castle seemed to be much lighter now that the children were more concerned with it instead of being afraid for their lives after Sirius' jail-break. It was delightful watching the students huddle together in hallways, heedless of the colours of their scarves and conspire against his favourite member of staff to share jokes with (torment, more like). The dour man really did need to brighten up a little, though, it was hardly healthy to be so unhappy all the time. At least, he should share his feelings with someone else instead of bottling them up all the time.

Albus watched with interest as the Weasley twins sauntered into the hall. They did so remind him of James and Sirius when they were young, always getting up to their mischief and bringing joy wherever they went. He glanced sideways at their Defence Professor, wondering if Remus was sharing his thoughts. He was glad he had a moment later, though, when he got to witness the reveal of the Weasley's prank-to-end-all-pranks.

Severus was unclothed.

And judging by the reaction of every other person in the hall, this was an unfamiliar and unbelievable occurrence. Due to the convenient height and positioning of the Head Table, no one was exposed to an indecent view, but in the three seconds it took Severus to react and quickly re-clothe himself, many people were able to sight the outstanding tattoo brandished on his thighs. In the fourth second, the doors of the hall slammed against the walls as the twins fled the scene, hoping to keep their heads as they sprinted from the infuriated man stalking behind them.

"1 000 points from Gryffindor! And detention for a year! Come back here!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round  four in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story about one of eight magical creatures from the perspective of that creature. I chose a Dementor. Final word count: 1, 229 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Soul

2\. (Dialogue) "Why am I crying? I'm so sick of crying."

3\. (Setting) Lake

 **The Lone(ly) Soul (eater)**

Jim was sad. And hungry, but he was always hungry, so that didn't matter as much. Jim was sad because no one wanted to be around him since he had left Azkaban. It wasn't his fault that he always ended up eating the souls of everyone he met! He just couldn't control it– that's why he had to leave Azkaban in the first place. After one-too-many accidental eatings, the others had gotten so mad at him that they banished him from the premises; from his home! He'd wandered around for a while, trying to figure out his next step, but then he'd started to get too homesick and tried to go back. Devastatingly, when he tried to cross the waters to reach his horrific home, he'd been blasted back by one of those _vile_ Patronus shields. The human guards were yelling at him to go away, but he wouldn't leave! Not until he absolutely had to!

That resolve lasted as long as it took for the second guard to cast his own corporeal Patronus – a bear—which charged towards him with a speed that Jim hadn't thought they were capable of. He turned tail and fled from the jail, leaving the only place he had belonged. Jim had kept moving for a long time, constantly on the move, not thinking about where he was going or what he left behind. He travelled for many moon cycles, passing mountains and valleys, creeks and rivers, plains and forests, but none of them were the place for him. He came across many other creatures as he moved, but rarely another Dementor. He stayed with a group of Lethifold for a while until they got too mad at him for accidentally giving up their positions with his freezing aura and shunned him. He was left alone… again.

He eventually ended up somewhere in Scotland, taking up residence around a large and dark lake that housed a giant squid and a colony of Merpeople. There was a castle on the side that teemed with little wizards and witches, but Jim only went for them every few hundred years, eating little bits of their souls at a time, just enough to stave off the hunger, not enough to truly satisfy. This pattern continued until one day an angry young man (who Jim believed had come to the castle -which he now knew was an educational facility- looking for work, only to receive hostility in return), stormed out of the castle and down to his side of the lake, cursing the "foolish old men" in charge of the school and holding himself back from just turning back around and attacking them, made obvious by the tight hold he had on his wand, turning his knuckles white with the pressure. At least, it was that way until the young wizard's hands went slack and his shoulders slumped, his strangely shaped, white-coloured wand fell to the ground silently, rolling a few steps away from the dark-haired male. His hands went to his eyes, and Jim watched on as a clear fluid began to fall from those eyes, with a strange salty smell, not unlike the sea that surrounded Azkaban. It fascinated him, even more so when the young man scrubbed furiously at his cheeks and whispered something to himself that Jim barely heard:

"Why am I crying? I'm so sick of crying. What good does crying do? Merlin! When did I get this pathetic?"

Jim watched the melancholy young wizard for a while before deciding that his soul would be an adequate feast, and fairly positive that no-one would miss the man's presence, were he to permanently disappear. Jim wandered forwards casually, at ease with the fact that he would be eating today because there was a large cluster of rocks on the other side of the man, caging him in with his impending doom. Jim had been delighted to find that his natural aura stopped wizards and witches from apparating away nine times out of ten, even more so when the feeble mortals were distressed. Jim could feel his powers creeping up, the cold settling in, killing the once vibrant blades of grass beneath him.

He reached out, drawing his powers further, building up the energy required to grab onto the mortal's soul -when suddenly, it slipped through his grasp. Jim's powers reared up again, making another attempt, lunging forward, trying to hook in and get a good grip on the elusive soul, but once again the soul slithered out from his hold. It didn't make sense. This had never happened before, never in all the years that Jim had existed, and those years were many.

In his puzzled state, his powers dampened just enough for the young wizard launch himself towards his wand, turn around and face him, shooting a quick fireball at him that Jim was nearly unable to dodge. Just when the wizard was about to shoot another spell -one that probably wouldn't miss this time- Jim flared out his aura one more in an intense, but short, burst, with only the intention of disarming the perplexing mortal; the one that felt very… _strange_ … for lack of a better word.

It was like his soul was too small to grab! But that was impossible, wasn't it?

There was someone whose soul he couldn't steal?

…

Jim and his new partner, Leonard, glided silently through the still air of a Muggle town, ignoring all of the delicious morsels running by. They were on a very important mission given to them directly by the Lord Voldemort himself. Jim, being his most trusted Dementor, and Leonard, the only one who would even look at Jim, were honoured to do anything for their Lord. He gave them free roam majority of the time, allowing them to eat however many Muggle souls they wanted after a raid. But today, they had one objective, and that was to capture the soul of the Lord's most annoying enemy - a young wizard that had survived the killing curse as a babe and continuously evaded his Lord's clutches; but for what cause? Why would any of those other wizards wish to oppose the greatest Dark Lord of all time? Could they not see the good he was doing for all creatures? Those who had been shunned by those of the _light._ Those who had forgotten that for Mother Magic to thrive, the balance needed to be kept?

Jim rounded the corner of the tunnel, trapping the two males between himself and Leonard, going straight for the large Muggle boy. He still didn't have the control needed for the delicate procedure their Lord required. He wanted the boy's soul for a ritual of some kind that would increase his power and return him to his proper body. The snake-like face wasn't appealing to their Lord any longer, especially if he wanted to go back into politics any time soon.

One second everything was going just fine and he was snacking on the fat one's soul - the next he was being blasted out of the tunnel by one of the strongest Patronus' that he'd ever faced. He now knew why his Lord had so much trouble with this one. Jim decided a tactical retreat was in order and promptly fled from the scene, Leonard not far behind.

Their Lord would not be pleased.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round  five in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story based on one of eight prompts from the romance box my group was provided. My prompt is: Mod Head! Canon: Harry's engagement ring to Ginny had a diamond which grew wings to look like a snitch. Final word count: 1 390 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Piano

2\. (Word) Dangerous

3\. (Colour) Cherry

 **Fly into my heart**

There comes a time in every man, woman or other's life when you make a decision that you ultimately regret. Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Conquered, Scar-Head, Just-Harry, happened to be experiencing one right now. He was currently standing outside the Weasley's door after knocking lightly enough that maybe, just maybe, no one heard it and he might be able to make a tactical retreat. It was just past seven, only five minutes past the time he had agreed on with Ginny, who he was about to pick up for their date.

This was to be potentially the most important date he had ever taken her on, even more so than their first date, which is saying something, considering how difficult it was for them to actually go on one after all of that embarrassing mutual pining they had, for like, ever. He was going to ask her to marry him. Usually, that would be okay. He'd been looking forward to this date for nearly an entire year, making sure he picked the perfect time for them – weather wise, family wise, relationship wise; everything. He had been absolutely sure that nothing would screw up today. Until right now.

What if it rained? What if a rogue Death-Eater attacked them? What if some of their fans caught wind of their location and ambushed them? What if the Daily Prophet showed up? What if Ginny didn't like the place he chose? What if she doesn't like his suit? What if she doesn't like the ring? What if she says no?

Harry had to take a moment to calm down so he doesn't have a heart attack and die on his hopefully-soon-to-be-in-laws doorstep.

Oh Merlin.

He hadn't even really thought about what having the Weasleys for in-laws would be like. They were already a family to him, Molly had even put him on the clock – which made him tear up more than he'd like to admit—but he didn't know how they'd all feel about him actually becoming one of them. It elated him, really, to finally have a family as amazing as the Weasleys, and Molly and Arthur had given him permission to propose, but he didn't know for sure how they really felt about it.

They were actually one of the reasons he bought that specific ring for Ginny. At first, when he went shopping for the one ring (to rule them all – Hermione had laughed at him for a really long time after he said that) he had just thought about whatever ring looked prettiest or one he thought Ginny might like, before he saw it.

If Hermione hadn't convinced him otherwise, he would've believed the ring was made just for them.

The diamond was red, something he hadn't actually thought possible, and was of a decent size. It wasn't overly-gaudy or too small to see, and it was held in place by a delicate band of gold. It was love at first sight. The soft piano music played in the shop had faded away to nothing as soon as he set eyes on it, but he was completely convinced of its perfection when he actually came closer to it and it fluttered. The feathery decorated bands that he had assumed were for aesthetics only, raised up to each side of the diamond, shaking themselves a few times before lazily flapping up and down, slowly and deliberately. They looked so much like a snitch's wings that he turned to the assistant immediately and asked to look at it.

Hermione had huffed at him when he excitedly gestured her over, but she came to his side obediently and patted his shoulder fondly when he gently cradled the ring in his hands to show it to her. She smiled softly at him when he looked up at her, and that was all the encouragement he needed to turn back to the star-struck attendant and nod at her, passing back the (one) ring.

Harry kind of felt like the ring also symbolised their relationship, in a way. In a really, really sappy way that he would never admit to anyone as long as he lived. And after that as well. Who knows what'll happen when he passes, anyway.

The first two things about the ring that made it special to him were as equally important as they were shallow; it resembled a snitch – a symbol of Quidditch, one of the passions the two shared even now, after Harry had long quit and Ginny was on a break after a near-dangerous accident she had a little while back, and it was the Gryffindor colours. Being in Gryffindor, and presumably, the other houses as well, meant much more to the students than anyone who didn't go to Hogwarts or didn't have those types of groups on their schools. Sometimes, like in Ginny's case, the house made you feel special and independent while keeping you in a warm environment, and in other's cases, like Harry's, they gave you the family you never had.

The really sentimental reason stemmed from that idea. Harry had never had a real family, not really, until he met the Weasleys, and even though they had accepted him as Ron's friend, it wasn't until he really got together with Ginny that he had felt part of them. The sappy part was that Harry felt like he had been searching for a real family for his entire –admittedly short—life; not unlike searching for the snitch during a Quidditch game. It was ridiculous, he knew, to compare it to that, but for Harry, it was a pretty good equivalent.

Harry took a deep breath and let it out as he heard footsteps approaching the door, clutching the flowers he was holding a little closer to his chest. He had a bouquet for Ginny and Molly; red tulips and white lilies for Ginny (Declaring his love and reassuring that his love for her was pure), and daisies and cornflowers for Molly (Expressing how true his love for them was and asking them to please be gentle with him—as a bit of an inside joke for himself, Hermione and Ron, who was surprisingly good at remembering flower meanings). Before he could do much more, Molly appeared, opening the door and smiling widely at him as soon as she saw him.

"Oh Harry! What did you knock for? You're welcome to just come in now, dear. And my, don't you look dashing in that suit! Ginny will be knocked off her feet! And what gorgeous flowers! Oh! Are these for me? Thank you, Harry. Come in now, Ginny will be down in a minute. Hermione's up with her now. Excuse me dear. Ginny! Harry's here!" Harry couldn't help but smile fondly at the woman as she tottered away from him, back towards the kitchen, flowers in tow. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs ahead so he stayed by the door to wait. Hermione came down first, giving him a tight hug and an encouraging smile before also moving through the door to the kitchen. Ron and George's heads popped through the living room doorway for a second, both grinning knowingly at him and giving simultaneous thumbs up before disappearing again.

Harry couldn't help but relax at the actions of his supportive friends. That was until he turned back to the stairs and had his breath stolen at the beautiful sight that greeting his eyes. Ginny stood on the bottom step of the staircase, stunning in her ankle length cherry-red off-the-shoulder dress and white heels. Her hair had grown long again, and she left it out to gather over her shoulder. She was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, and he told her as much, delighting in the lovely blush his words produced.

He cleared his throat and stepped forward, offering her the flowers and holding out his arm. The box holding the ring was a surprisingly comforting weight in his pocket and he felt more confident now than he had all night. This woman, this wonderful, charming, lovely, bewitching woman, loved him, and he loved her. Everything would be fine.

With that thought in mind, Harry planted a soft kiss on his to-be-fiancé's cheek and apparated them away to the restaurant that he had made the reservation at for their date.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round six in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story inspired by the Seven Deadly Sins or the Seven Heavenly Virtues. I chose Sin. My Sin is Greed. Final word count: 1 507 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Favour

2\. (Quote) "I have always known who you really are, and that's why I love you." - Belle, Once Upon A Time

3\. (Word) Risk

Greed is the Sin of the Gods

The first time Albus Dumbledore saw Gellert Grindelwald, really saw him, he realised that he had an immense, intoxicating amount of unrestrained power writhing under his skin.

He wanted it.

He wanted him.

And nothing would stop him from getting what he wanted. After all, he was Albus Dumbledore. The better Dumbledore, the favoured one. The kind one; the smart one. The one who dropped out of Hogwarts to care for his sister even though it was obvious that he was going to be made the head boy. The one who still topped the marks of every other Gryffindor in his grade even when he didn't attend classes anymore. The one who managed to trick the hat into putting him in Gryffindor just by acting excited. The one who didn't secretly fuck goats when he thought no one was around.

The one who always got what he wanted.

…

Albus Dumbledore had always felt that there was always a minute question of doubt that laid just under his skin whenever he made a risky decision that might or might not work out well in the end. He never went through with an idea if he didn't think it would succeed, but sometimes his plans did go awry even after he had planned out every detail meticulously, step by step, thinking up every reaction he could.

He had spent many years thinking about how he could come into enough power to rule the Wizarding World, and he might just have the solution—if only Gellert would agree. The problem was, Gellert didn't seem to really trust him yet, and for the life of him, Albus just couldn't figure out why.

He had been extremely friendly to the other boy, smiling constantly around him, showering him in compliments and praise, but still, the other boy wouldn't grant him a second glance. Well, that wasn't completely true. The other boy would speak to him, if only shallow talk, but the only time Albus felt like he got any true emotion from the other was when they were having sex. Oh, yeah. That was a thing. Albus had nearly given up on his dreams before he discovered that particular delicious morsel of information about the other. And to think, it had happened because of a stupid accident on his part.

They'd been strolling down a Muggle street close to Gellert's home when it had started to rain quite heavily. Stupidly, he had forgotten his umbrella when he left the house this morning, so he was soaked in a matter of seconds. He couldn't conjure one in the presence of Muggles, so he was left to flounder for a moment before the rain suddenly stopped. Albus looked up in surprise to see a black umbrella above his head, being held by one Gellert Grindelwald. Well, half above his head. Gellert had put his own umbrella up and Albus happened to be standing close enough for it to cover him as well. He looked over to Gellert, but the other boy was still looking forward, face stoic.

They had continued towards Gellert's home, because it would be stupid for Albus to turn back now. Albus was slightly shocked that Gellert was letting him into his house, but went along with it. Maybe this was the next step to getting into his head. He didn't know it would end up being the first step to getting into his pants, instead.

When they arrived, Gellert offered him some food and dry clothes, and of course Albus accepted. He would have preferred just drying his own, but Gellert's family had a strict rule of no magic in the home without express permission from the patriarch, and seeing as he had been out of the country for three weeks, that was a big no.

So there they were, changing out of their dripping clothes, when Albus heard -or rather, didn't- Gellert stop moving. So, he looked over his shoulder to see Gellert unabashedly staring at his… upper thighs. So, Albus did what anyone would do in that situation. He just… wiggled a bit. That had Gellert's eyes snapping up to his immediately, a blush spreading over his cheeks. Albus was stunned for a moment. That blush was the first _genuine_ change in facial expression that he'd ever drawn from the other boy. And by Merlin, was he going to take advantage of it.

And a whole new side of Gellert was opened up to him. Yeah, sure, the _event_ was very pleasurable, but the knowledge he gained from it was even more so. He had foolishly thought that maybe after that event Gellert would trust him, but the next day the other boy acted like it didn't even happen. Well, until he decided to slam Albus up against the wall again.

...

Albus scowled as he viciously slashed and set fire to the training dummy he had set up at the back of their house. Ariana had just gone for a nap and Merlin, even though he loved that girl with all of his heart, it was a pain to have to cater to her every single need any time she wanted him. He had invited Gellert to his home again, but Albus knew he wouldn't show. He never did.

Usually, letting out steam by draining his magic reserves would do the trick and he could go back to the world and charm them all, but as of late, the method seemed to be failing him. He'd had to do it more and more often lately, and today, every spell he cast only seemed to make him all the more frustrated. His spells just weren't powerful enough! He had never had this problem before, but now that he knew that there was a way to make him more powerful, it seemed like everything else wasn't good enough.

He cursed and let loose his strongest Bombarda Maxima yet, throwing the dummy back to the edge of the field, falling in several pieces. Albus spun away from the damage –he'd clean it up later. Right now he was too frustrated. As he turned, he contemplated the idea of doing another ritual later this week to give him another power boost. He was running out of new rituals and he was hesitant to move into the darker ones, just in case they left dark residue on his magic. He wouldn't turn out like those disgusting dark magic users, torturing everyone around them just to get another fix of the addicting power. Power wasn't something to use – it was something to own and control. The more power you had, the stronger you were. And in this community of mindless sheep, strength got you everywhere.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when he caught sight of Gellert, arms crossed and leaning against the wall of the Dumbledore's house, brow raised. Albus froze. Merlin's stinky socks. Plastering on a smile, Albus stepped towards him.

"Gellert! What a surprise! Whatever can I do for you, my friend?" Gellert pushed himself off the wall and chuckled. Albus cursed himself as soon as the words came out, Of course he was here-

"Weren't you the one to invite me, my _friend?_ " Albus smiled and put on an apologetic embarrassed face, moving to speak when Gellert spoke again. "That was a surprising amount of power, Albus. Care to explain?" Albus felt a spark of panic before realising that this was exactly what he had wanted from the beginning. _This_ was his opportunity to convince Gellert to his cause.

"Have you heard of the Elder Wand?"

…

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he moved passed the herd of people that had gathered outside the Ministry building. He didn't want to do this. He really had come to care deeply for Gellert over the years, but now he was the only thing standing between him and absolute power over the Wizarding World. Not only would 'defeating' the greatest Dark Lord of their time bring him fame and the love of the people, but Gellert was the current master of the Elder Wand. And Albus needed that wand. Albus would have that wand.

He would do anything to get it, and nothing, not even their bond, would stand in the way of him achieving his goal. Apparently, that was not the same for Gellert. Gellert would not fight him. He willingly gave up the Elder Wand to Albus when he asked for it, as he had decided to do before they actually fought. It perplexed him. But when Albus asked him why, his only response was,

"Because I love you, Albus. I don't want to fight you." Albus had, probably unjustly, been angered by that.

"You don't even know me! You've never known me, so how can you say you love me?" Gellert, the crazy bastard, just smiled.

"I have always known who you really are, and that's why I love you." Albus cast him down with a tightness in his chest and tears in his eyes.

Gellert just smiled.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round seven in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story about a pairing (not necessarily romantic) with the nautical ship name _H.M.S Mirror_. Final word count: 1 346 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Bond

2\. (Word) Cosy

3\. (Word) Brush

A Tale of Two

As most stories did, theirs started at the beginning. The first of April, 1978, which was, ironically enough, April fool's Day. They were already linked in the womb; not physically, but mentally, spiritually. They were one in the same – well, Molly thought they were, until not one but _two_ baby boys came flying out, minutes apart. They were named Fred and George to honour Molly's brothers, Fabian and Gideon. They seemed to be identical in every way, so they got used to people treating them like one person, never hearing 'Fred' or 'George' but 'Fred and George.' And it was okay that way.

They grew up together, tied by the hip. They were never far apart but even in the instances when one was in the room and the other wasn't, they would be able to tell you exactly where the other was. The rest of the Weasleys had assumed it to be just a 'Twin Thing,' and the two went with that for a few years. Until Fred and George realised that the other twins they met couldn't do exactly the same things they did. They couldn't pinpoint their other halves location instantly (some of them didn't even consider their twin their other half!), or say exactly the same words at the same time, or speak through facial expressions and eye contact, _Merlin_ some of them couldn't even stand the other!

Fred and George, or Gred and Forge as they preferred, never fought with each other. Yes, sometimes they disagreed about little things, but they'd never had a serious fight in their (admittedly short) lives. This caused them to question some things, and the two surprisingly intelligent boys started to investigate their situation at the age of eight. And immediately hit a dead-end. None of the books in the house said anything about twins, more often than not they just detailed some recipes or were textbooks left around the house by their older brothers. Of course they read those because they were cool and the twins couldn't wait to use magic, but they weren't useful to the cause (no one had to know that they also read the numerous cookbooks as well).

Whenever their mum had to go to Diagon Alley for whatever reason, the two asked to come with her and she stopped being suspicious after the third time. They never caused any trouble or bought anything, so she allowed them to disappear into the bookstore for a few hours every time. The shopkeepers didn't mind them just reading, because it was obvious that they couldn't buy it but they weren't defacing the books or stealing them, so there were no problems. The two were tempted to play a few pranks each time, especially on the rude customers, but they figured that laying low would be the best way for them to continue going.

When they were nine, Forge found a book about soul magic in a new bookstore that had opened up a few shops down from the opening of Knockturn Alley. Molly didn't know they were in there, of course, but no one paid them any attention except for a single beautiful long-haired two-toned woman in the corner. She didn't approach them so there were no problems there, either. They read through the book carefully and skipped any of the pages that seemed too dark for whatever they were hoping to find. Then, just as they thought their time was up, soul-bonds were brought up. This didn't seem too different from any of the other topics and Forge was going to turn the page, when Gred suddenly slammed his hand onto the page. Forge jumped, but dutifully looked down to the paragraph that Gred was pointing out, before turning to him and squealing with joy (as quietly as possible, of course). _Soul-twins._

A pair of twins that were created in the womb that were split by Mother Magic herself because the first had too much magic to control alone. The second twin would bring their own power as well, but the two would share a Magical Core, meaning that they could share their magic between them. That was the reason they usually got sick at the same time, with one body needing more magic to keep itself healthy than their half of the core could provide, so they took from the other, significantly weakening the other and allowing them to be susceptible to the illness as well. The abilities shared by the soul-twins in the description seemed to be everything that the two Weasleys already identified within themselves, except for the one that said their menstrual cycles would be synced, because they didn't know what menstrual cycles were or why they would be synced. The duo resolved to ask Bill later. He would know.

When they got home their mum had scoffed at them when approached with the possibility. She proceeded to tell them that there was no way for them to be soul-twins because _everybody_ knew that soul-twins only appeared when the baby in the womb had too much magic for one body to bear, and "neither of them were particularly strong." At the time they probably took it harder than she had intended it to be, so they ran from the room and into the arms of Bill. Bill wouldn't be mean to them like that – not Bill. Bill, who laughed at their jokes and didn't get mad when they put too many sugars in his tea, who tried his best to tell them apart when even their mum had given up. Bill who held their hands when they walked down Diagon Alley instead of letting them walk behind; who let them watch him practice his magic and hold his wand. Bill who just sat on the floor and wrapped his arms around them and didn't ask why they were crying, just letting them sit on his legs and sniffle.

Bill was sixteen and already in his sixth year at Hogwarts so he was much smarter than they were. He was practically an adult, but he wasn't stuffy or mean like Percy, who wanted to be grown up really quickly so they wouldn't be poor any more. Bill liked Runes and other old things, but he wasn't boring when he talked about it like their dad was. Their dad liked Muggles too much, anyway. Bill listened when they told him about what they learned, but he also said that they shouldn't be in that part of Diagon Alley because it was dangerous. The twins didn't know why and were kind of mad, but Bill said no, so they wouldn't go there again. Bill told them that he didn't really know much more about soul-twins than what they told him, but maybe they were. He advised them against telling anyone else, just in case it turned out to be dangerous for them in the future. They were sad about that at first, but then Bill told them that he was proud of them for finding all of that out on their own and taking the initiative to do something like that all by themselves. He told them he thought they were super cool and could probably go into whatever Hogwarts House they wanted.

The two shrieked when Bill stood up, but calmed down when all he did was move to his bed to cuddle with them instead of sitting on the hard floor. It couldn't have been too comfortable for the eldest son to sit there for so long, but he had suffered through a numb butt until he was sure they were done before moving to the cosier set-up. The two curled into him from both sides, holding hands as he brushed his fingers through their fiery locks and hummed a Goblin battle anthem to lull them to sleep. Never was it said that the three were normal in any way.

When Molly went looking for the boys a few hours later to call them to dinner, she found all three sleeping peacefully and couldn't help but smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round eight in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story about the consequences for Muggleborns in a world where Voldemort won the war. Final word count: 1 306 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Allegiance

2\. (Word) Revolution

3\. (Word) Lace

Turn Around

This story takes place in a world far away from ours, where some events that shaped our world might have never even occurred to the mind of the deity watching that plane. The sea isn't dried, nor the sky red, but instead, in this world, a young man decided his fate long before he was thrown head-first into an unfamiliar reality; where a boy was abused terribly by his realities (even more so than in the world we come from) and sent outside in the hot sun on a particular day of a certain year, where another young boy happened to be walking by after his rather promiscuous mother had decided to once again explore her latest conquest, leaving him with a scarred mind and the idea to leave the house and do some explorations of his own.

The first young boy, let's call him Harry, was in a great deal of pain as he drug the bins out to the curb, unintentionally walking _just_ beyond some peculiar wards stationed around his 'home.' The second young boy, whom we might just call Blaise, happened to notice our dear Harry after he tripped over his own feet and scraped his knee on the concrete below. Blaise, as a child of only six summers, knew nothing about not approaching people that one didn't know, and rushed over to the other child to inquire about his welfare.

Now, our dear Harry did very nearly faint when he spotted another (slightly intimidating) shadow enveloping his own. Fortunately, our boy Blaise was there to catch him. Unfortunately, Blaise almost dropped the poor sod in shock when he realised how injured the other was. Momentarily forgetting about the reason why he had left the house in the first place, Blaise gripped his emergency Portkey and stole the confused orphan from his residence immediately.

These events did not mark the _beginning_ of our story, oh no, far from it actually, but it did mark a beginning of _sorts_ \- the beginning of the end of their world as they knew it, and as we did too. The beginning for _our_ story is too far in the past for someone as lazy as we to turn back to- so instead, we'll jump forwards through time… about five years ahead is a good time to stop, we think.

In this world, Blaise and Harry grew up together after that… _friendly kidnapping_ … and they wouldn't have it any other way. Oh their childhoods were precious ones. They learnt how to dance and dine, sing and study, fly and fish… for secrets. They learnt the arts of Potion making and Transfiguration, Divination and Elemental Magic, the secret to seduction and the truth behind the laws of both nature and the foolish Ministry.

This is not to say that the boys didn't have fun either, but to them, learning how to use their looks and in Harry's case, fame, to their advantage, _was_ actually pretty entertaining most of the time. Now, this doesn't seem to be a big deal at first, but then you should take into consideration that not only was the 'Boy-Who-Lived' cunning enough to be a Slytherin through-and-through; he was also smart enough and kind enough to not only make friends all throughout the school, but also, when the time came, assist in the secret resurrection of the Dark Lord, who he swore allegiance to and became friends with in his first year and share his opinions of the world with him as an equal, as the prophecy foretold.

Now, as you know, this is an extreme change from the story that we in this world are familiar with. This not only gave Harry and his family power, but the Dark Lord as well. And because of all the connections our sweet Harry had made throughout his school years, he was easily able to become a high ranking official in the Ministry where he worked both behind the scenes and in the public eye to change the world the way they wanted it to be.

They moved slowly, carefully, only changing what they could get away with peacefully; until years had passed and suddenly not only was the return of the Dark Lord not feared, it was celebrated. The Dark Lord took his rightful place as ruler of the new world, and all of the other plans that the two had made over time fell into place. There was only a small battle between the leaders of the now free world and an old man named Dumbledore, but Fate was on the side of the victors that day, and the two emerged unharmed while the rebel was locked away for the rest of his life.

And the public were entrapped so thoroughly in his web that the idea of revolution had never even occurred to them, not even once; or if it had, those flames of disobedience were snuffed out too quickly for anyone to even notice.

Magic was taught safely in the schools in all their forms- Light, Neutral and Dark- with no discrimination between the three. Magical creatures were no longer oppressed and no magical orphans were ever left alone ever again. They were brought into that magical world and raised properly and with care.

But by far, the most drastic change of all was the laws surrounding the Muggleborns. Against popular belief, the Dark Lord did not immediately order their execution or exile, but a new plan was proposed. As it was in their world, or is in ours, the Muggleborns were the cause of much strife. The reason why they were despised what was debated, but the Dark Lord and the prophecy child managed to bring the issue to light for everyone to understand.

It was not the fact that the Muggleborns were born from Muggles that make them disliked (though that was a contributor), but the fact that they were tarnishing Magic with their Muggle ways was the problem. Now, that doesn't make much sense when stated plainly like that, but over time, the people came to understand.

The Muggle ways were hurting Magic. Magic was a living entity, gifted to the Magical Folk from Mother Magic herself, who was now too weak to properly communicate with the people. Magic needed rituals, celebrations and belief to stay alive, but with the arrival of the Muggleborns, who were uncomfortable with the ideas of rituals- even the non-violent ones- the Ministry lost sight of the true meaning of Magic and banned all rituals and the Dark Arts, tipping the balance too far into the Light. Magic lost more power when Her celebration days, like Samhain and Yule were twisted to the Muggle versions to appease the newcomers, but the last straw was the attack upon the Magical Creatures. Her Magic was stretched thin enough as it was, but this was what tore holes in Her sheet and turned it to lace, only held together by the thin strings of the Purebloods who still followed Her Olde Ways.

So Mother Magic had used nearly all of her remaining energy to keep the balance- creating a Dark Lord to bring their world back to peace.

The people believed them immediately; because it was _true._

So their Muggleborns were also taken at birth, raised by magical families who could either not conceive on their own or just wanted another child, and they knew the world of Magic and never turned back to the Muggle ways.

Their world never ended.

Their animals didn't die out, nor did their plants wither.

The sea didn't dry to bone, and their sky didn't burn away with it.

The Muggles didn't rule them, didn't keep them as pets, and didn't torture them.

The Muggleborns didn't take away their Magic, didn't betray them to the enemies.

They didn't turn out like us.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round nine in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story influenced by Alice in Wonderland. Final word count: 1255 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Quote) 'If you smile when no one else is around, you really mean it' - Andy Rooney

2\. (Word) Kaleidoscope

3\. (Song) 'Fireflies' by Owl City

Ten thousand lightning bugs

Freak gazed around his cupboard in awe before slowly reaching out one hand towards the little buzzing lights floating around him that had just sprung from his hand when he was thrown into the dark. The dim hanging light had broken in the morning so there had been nothing to keep away the monsters that lived in the corners of his tiny room. At least, not until what he now realised were little bugs appeared when he wished for some light to protect him. The glowing insects started to land on the walls and Freak giggled when a few bumped into his face and settled down in his hair. He didn't know where they came from or if they would stay, but he was glad for them. It wasn't the first time something _strange_ had happened around him, but it was definitely the prettiest. He let a real big grin of excitement cross his face—after all, no one else was there to see it, so there was no way he'd get in trouble for it.

There was so many of them that they started to land on his chest and legs too— almost like they were giving him a bug-hug. Freak giggled again from the comfortable warmth his new shining friends gave him, before settling down again to sleep. The last thing he saw before he drifted off was the reflection of the bugs on his broken light.

He had what was possibly the best sleep in his short life that night. Freak thought he was lucky for that, because the next day he had a very tiring day. He kind of wished he'd stayed asleep.

…

It had started the same as any other, with Aunt Petunia rapping her thin fingers on his door and waking him with her shrill voice, unlocking his door and then moving to the kitchen. Freak was glad she never ever came into his cupboard because it seemed that his little friends had decided to stay with him overnight, though they were no longer glowing.

Freak stumbled out into the hallway, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the bright light of day before he moved to the kitchen to help his aunt make breakfast. After the food had been prepared and the family had eaten their meal, Freak cleaned the dishes and nibbled on the leftovers he was lucky to get today. He then had his ten minutes in the bathroom, showering, using the toilet, and brushing his teeth while trying to tame his hair, before he left the house to start his chores—today he would be working in the garden all day because his relatives were out of the house and Uncle Vernon didn't trust him alone inside.

It was while he was weeding the flower bed that the really strange part of his day began.

A flash of white appeared in the corner of his eyes and he turned towards it, surprised to see a white rabbit sitting to his side, just staring at him, but that wasn't the strangest thing about the rabbit—no, it was the fact that the rabbit had a strange pattern on its body; the fur on its little chest had a triangular shape- almost like an eye, but with a line running through the middle. It wasn't a pattern he'd ever seen on an animal before. The rabbit was just sitting on the pathway out the front of the house, seemingly staring right at him, but when he stood and stepped onto the pathway so that he could maybe pet the pretty thing, it jumped as if it hadn't seen him at all.

Though startled, the little thing didn't hop away like he had expected it to, instead shuffling forwards a little bit. Elated, Freak crouched down and spread one hand towards the little thing and to his surprise, the bunny just sat still and allowed him to pat it gently. The wind that he hadn't noticed before blew through the street and Freak reached up to brush his fringe out of his eyes when the bunny suddenly made an urgent sounding squeaking noise and rested its front paws on his dirty knees and it… tried to get a better look at his face? Freak started to move back again when the rabbit made another noise and he stopped moving. Now that he looked closer, it seemed as if the rabbit was staring intensely at his forehead? Freak didn't know why the bunny would have a fascination with the ugly lightning-shaped scar he bore on his face, but he allowed it to examine him.

Freak jolted when the rabbit suddenly bounded off his legs and hopped a few metres away. He sighed, disappointed that he wouldn't get to pet it anymore, and made to walk away—but the bunny was suddenly at his feet again, bouncing off his leg and hopping a few paces away. Freak shuffled towards the bunny uncertainly, but it only hopped further along ahead, stopping every time he did. It was obvious that the bunny wanted him to follow it, but Freak had no idea why a _rabbit_ would want _Freak_ to follow it.

After one last glance at the Dursley's residence, Freak turned completely and followed the strange animal down the street and away from his old life forever. Well, he didn't know that yet.

…

The little rabbit led him far away from the house, taking him through many streets he recognised and a few he didn't, until they came to stop in a little back alley close to an old, dark pub. Now, if Freak had been raised like a normal child, he probably would have felt a bit scared being alone in a dark alley far away from home, but, Freak was anything but a normal child. So he wasn't feeling any negative emotions when he entered the alley, and the first other emotion he felt while in that alley was complete and utter shock.

You might not know why Freak was feeling so shocked, but that's because you don't know yet that the bunny Freak had followed far away, had just grown and grown and grown until there wasn't a bunny standing in front of him any longer, but a grown man!

The man was much, much taller than Freak was, seeing as he was only seven himself, and had very long white hair that reached his shoulders in thin, fluffy waves. He was slightly cross-eyed, but wore a gentle smile on his face that didn't look very dangerous to Freak at all. The man stepped forwards a little and spoke quickly.

"Would your name happen to be Harry Potter, young man?"

…

After having his whole world shattered by learning his true heritage from a strange man (who's very hard to pronounce name he now knew was Xenophilius Lovegood) in a dingy alley, he was led into the old looking pub so that the man could 'settle some things' so that Freak—so that _Harry,_ would never have to go back to the Dursleys ever again. Mr Lovegood hadn't explained why he would have to go into a pub to do this, so he was completely unprepared for the brick wall at the back of the building to split open and reveal a kaleidoscope of colours to Harry's eyes.

There were people everywhere, with funny clothes and strange pets, buying many different types of things from the different stores all over the alley.

It was _wonderful._ Completely, well, _magical._


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** This story is a submission for round ten in the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I am Chaser One for the **Ballycastle Bats**. My prompt was to write a story about the portrait Dilys Derwent. Final word count: 1 207 words.

Additional prompts:

1\. (Word) Sinking

2\. (Word) Tree

3\. (Dialogue) " _Please_ tell me you're being ironic."

The Next Step

Draco was six and wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do with his life. Granted, he _was_ only a child, but his Father had always said that "ambition to be great is one of the most important aspects of being a Malfoy". But how could Draco be ambitious, when he didn't know what he wanted? Father was a politician, but Draco didn't really want to deal with those kinds of people all day; he'd rather just play with his Mother or the family's birds. They had many owls up in the owlery who were absolutely lovely, but Draco's favourite was the albino peacock that lived in the gardens.

Draco had named him Derwent after the portrait in his Mother's sitting room. The lady inside had pale skin and silver hair, and was very pretty; but Draco didn't want to give the peacock a girl's name just in case it didn't know that Dilys had been a great witch in her day and got offended, so he just called it by her last name instead.

Dilys spoke to Draco whenever she was in her portrait and she told him a lot of things about Hogwarts—where she used to be the Headmaster—and St. Mungo's, because she was a Healer first. Whenever his Mother was having a Sad Day and stayed in her room and Father was too busy to deal with him, he would go to Dilys' portrait and she would tell him stories about her life. Sometimes she would gossip about something funny she had seen through her other portraits, but she liked to teach Draco about spells that would help people the most. Sometimes it wasn't even spells; just ways he could help people—through words or actions, or even some of the Muggle ways that she knew from her time and what she saw now. She told Draco that Muggles were dangerous to Wizards, but they weren't all bad, but he wasn't to tell Father that or Dilys might get in trouble. Draco didn't want Dilys to get in trouble, so it was their little secret.

Draco liked her. She always had time for him and didn't call him stupid when he couldn't understand, like some of the tutors Father had hired for him. He liked Healing too, and one time when he found and old wand that belonged to one of the Malfoy ancestors, he used a spell she taught him on an owl that hurt its foot when it landed on a spiky branch. It wasn't a very difficult spell, and hardly dangerous at all, but Dilys had still been mad at him when he told her. She said it was very irresponsible to practice magic without a supervisor when he wasn't properly trained. He didn't like that very much, but he was happy when she said she was proud of him for getting the spell right.

…

Draco was ten and very curious about Magic. He wanted to know _how_ Magic worked—why were charms different to jinxes and curses, why did Healing spells work on people and animals but not trees and flowers? Why did Wizards need a wand and how did they know what materials to put in the wands? Why couldn't squibs use Magic? How did Muggleborns get Magic? How did Purebloods get Magic? Why did people frown at him and his Mother when they went outside?

Dilys couldn't answer all of these questions herself, of course, but she did her best to provide him with the information by asking the other portraits and walking into some of the portraits in the library to tell him which books to read. He liked reading, but not as much as Magic. Now that he was ten, his Mother sometimes let him practice simple spells with her wand. It worked nicely with him, but Dilys told him that _his_ wand would be an even better match for him. He was so excited to get his own wand and finally go to Hogwarts himself. After all the stories Dilys had told him about the place, he was sure it would be _amazing._

That was until his Father started to take more time out of his busy day to sit Draco down and tell him what was expected of a Malfoy. He had to be the best.

Get into Slytherin.

Make strong alliances.

Don't let down his guard at any moment, even with his 'friends.'

Don't talk to Mudbloods.

Don't get caught doing bad things by any teacher other than Severus.

Learn everything about his year-mates so he would have leverage over them when he needed it.

Don't listen to anything Dumbledore says.

Don't listen to the Muggle-lovers.

Don't be friendly to Gryffindors.

Don't disgrace the Malfoy name.

Draco and his Father were startled out of their conversation by a snort coming from one of the portraits. _Dilys._ Father sneered at her, but she only leant forwards and smirked at him.

" _Please_ tell me you're being ironic." She huffed a laugh, and continued in what Draco supposed was an imitation of his Father's voice. " _Don't disgrace the Malfoy name,_ please, you're doing that enough on your own. Nothing Draco here could do would disgrace your family more than you already have, Lucius." Draco's Father snarled and dragged Draco out of the room by his arm.

Draco didn't get to see Dilys again until he went to Hogwarts, and by then it was already too late.

…

Draco was fourteen and he was sinking. Drowning. Being pulled further and further into the depths than he could handle alone.

So he went to the one person—if you could call her that—who had been there for him his entire life.

She welcomed him with a smile and he could already feel his chest becoming lighter. He smuggled her portrait out of his Mother's sitting room and into his own bedroom, where there were no portraits on the walls that could listen in to their conversation.

He told her of all the things that had happened since the beginning of the year—the incident at the Quidditch World Cup and how scared he had been; how happy his Father had been. He spoke of the Tri-Wizard tournament and how scared he had been for Potter—and wasn't that another can of worms. Dilys was the first person to hear Draco admit out loud that he was completely and utterly gay. He hadn't even realised he confessed to her until she started to laugh.

"Honey, you thought I didn't already know? I've known since you were seven that you were gay, and I knew you liked this Harry boy from your first year. We've never had a conversation since you went to Hogwarts that didn't include him somehow." Draco was blown away, but then again, this woman was probably one of the smartest he had ever met in his life, and she was only a portrait. He decided to trust her word, and then followed her advice about the other things he had been struggling with.

He'd be alright in the end. Everything would find a way to work itself out and he would be okay, and maybe, just maybe, his life would be good.


End file.
